


Reverse, Rewind

by xaritomene



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (I hope this works), Angst, Angst is just hurt/comfort without the comfort right, Future Fic, Gen, I just saw a video and ended up with all these feelings, I'm just really sorry, I'm really sorry, IT'S NOT MY FAULT, Reincarnation, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, all the feels, because there ain't no comfort here, except it is, no wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:29:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaritomene/pseuds/xaritomene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin waited for so long for them to live again; he forgot how to do it himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverse, Rewind

_– no – stop – go back–_

It had been a thousand years, give or take a century – Merlin stopped counting somewhere along the way, and couldn’t bear to start again.

He didn’t know how his life would work – if he could die or be permanently injured, he knew _nothing_ , not even a rough time for when Arthur would come back, and being left in limbo hurt more than anything. He helped Gwen, started ‘Britain’ on its way, and hid himself away to let Time tick past over his skin. That, after all, was one thing that could go on without him.

If Time had taken Arthur from him, perhaps he could have forgiven himself; Time, after all, was meant to take. But nothing natural had taken Arthur, nothing had let him slide with dignity into death and Merlin had watched him die, knowing that none of his gifts could save the one thing he needed most. Merlin couldn’t forgive a betrayal on that scale; he had spent his mercy already, and there was none left for himself.

He spent his time and his magic in illusions, pretending Camelot and Arthur and all his old friends, but nothing ever felt quite right; nothing clicked properly into place with that feeling of _rightness_ , because nothing was out of place in an illusion, where everything came from inside him. His Arthurs were never brash and bold enough, never warm and selfless to the same extent; his Gwens never strong or kind as they should be; his Morganas never as glittering or brilliant as she’d been. He wondered whether those had been the characteristics he’d always lacked, or if he’d lost them over the years.

He slept for years at a time, waking every few years to check on Arthur’s land before sleeping again. He felt incomplete and irrelevant, out of place without his friends and enemies to create the world he was supposed to be in.

And then – then, he woke up and it was there; the sensation, the right resonance in the air: _Arthur_.

**

Merlin walked. He walked and lost years as he went – walked from Holyhead to London as slowly as he could, until he was barely an adult again, looking eighteen and feeling ancient. He had nothing people needed for modern life – no bank account, no ID, no money, no home – but it was a moment’s work to create himself again, now Arthur was back. Merlin had always needed Arthur to be really _alive_ , anyway.

He found Arthur at university, serious-faced in lectures, and laughing bright with his friends when he was free. Gwaine was there, and Percival, Lancelot – at university on a military scholarship – knew Elyan, and was dating Gwen, and there was Morgana, a Master’s student at Queen Mary’s, all the players back on the board and all inclined to get along.

And Merlin watched them, and for the first time in a long time, wanted to go forward instead of back.

_– stop – start – keep going –_

He watched, feeling fate, as they met, one by one. Gwen met Arthur, who flirted and smiled then met her boyfriend without so much as a grimace, introducing Morgana to Gwen, who in turn introduced Elyan to Arthur, and Elyan brought Gwaine and Percival together, and Merlin watched, and smiled, and waited.

He didn’t expect what came next. 

Watching as closely as he was, it was clear that they all knew something was going on, something was bringing them together, even if they didn’t know precisely what that something was – but Merlin was the first to know when Gwen woke up, looked round, and _saw_.

She whispered to Lancelot, reaching out to touch his hand, and he started when she touched him, grabbing Gwaine in shock, a chain reaction which ran round the table, until they were staring at each other, silent and shell-shocked, frightened and wary but as brave and brilliant as they’d ever been.

It was Arthur – of course it was Arthur – who broke the stillness, reaching out a hand to Morgana, half-apology, half-forgiveness, perfectly pitched, and Merlin stepped forwards when they were done, certain this was his moment, his perfect moment, when the last thousand years (or so) would be worth it. _They remembered_.

“Good evening,” he said, quiet, never quite able to be less formal.

They turned to glance at him as one, all wary of an intruder in a moment like that, and he waited for it, for realisation and welcome – but their eyes on him were blank.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Arthur said finally, and it wasn’t a joke or a played-out memory.

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, a moment longer than the millennia he’d already wasted waiting, and stumbled back.

_They remembered each other. But they didn’t remember him._

Maybe memories were for the living; maybe he couldn’t be remembered because he never forgot, he’d never forgotten. 

He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to numb it. “No – no, sorry,” he managed. “Wrong – wrong table, wrong- wrong...” 

_– no – stop – go back–_

It took nothing – half a thought – to disappear again.

He’d thought it would be fine if any of them made it back; but he wondered to himself now if he’d missed companionship rather than them ( _than Arthur_ ). But when he wondered if he could bring himself to befriend anyone else, he knew he couldn’t do it. Last time had _hurt_ , and the people he’d left behind were the only ones he knew it was worth being hurt for.

The people who had left him behind, now.

Merlin was in the past and they couldn’t remember him.

 _– no – stop – go back_...


End file.
